


This Is A Test. (A What? A Test.)

by pornographicrainbowlegs



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Beacon Hills High School, Bisexual Stiles Stilinski, Bisexuality, Coming Out, House Party, M/M, Miscommunication, Standardized Tests
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-29
Updated: 2014-07-29
Packaged: 2018-02-08 13:43:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1943325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pornographicrainbowlegs/pseuds/pornographicrainbowlegs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It doesn’t take an emotional crisis for Stiles to realize and admit to himself that he is bisexual. But it might take a miracle, or just some proper communication, for him to admit it to Scott.</p><p>Original Prompt: Bi Stiles- Stiles realizes that he’s bisexual and also maybe has a thing for his best friend. He’s not as nervous about coming out as he is admitting to Scott that he’s crushing on him. Scott is of course very understanding and proud of Stiles and then kissing ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Is A Test. (A What? A Test.)

**Author's Note:**

> Title is a play on the "A What?" game, rules can be found [here](http://www.humankinetics.com/excerpts/excerpts/challenge-your-students-in-a-game-called-ldquoa-whatrdquo).
> 
> Prompt 3
> 
> Some general housekeeping:
> 
> First, an amazing thank you out to my artist, [inflomora-art](http://inflomora-art.tumblr.com/) ([click here for her awesome art!](http://inflomora-art.tumblr.com/post/93179045292/bi-stiles-for-the-sciles-reversebang-author)). I'm so glad her art fell into my hands, it was a lot of fun to write this one!
> 
> Second, I am in so much debt to my beta, [Cleveland](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Cleveland). He has had to put up with so much, and I'm not sorry. He's getting pie out of it anyway, so don't feel too bad for him. He also suggested the alternative summary of "Standardized testing isn’t the only thing in Stiles’ life that’s hard."
> 
> Third, to the mods over at [scilesreversebang](http://scilesreversebang.tumblr.com/), THANK YOU! You guys worked so hard to put this together. You're so awesome, I hope you know you're appreciated!

Stiles runs his fingers through his hair. The motion isn’t as soothing as he’d like it to be. He bangs his eraser on the desk, swivels in his chair, taps his leg, and gets distracted by some birds before finally looking back at the test on his desk.

Standardized Test Week means almost four hours of nearly-continuous testing a day. The bastards at least sweeten the deal with peanuts and apple juice.

He glances over at Scott, who looks like someone is asking him the circumference of a moose in millimeters with only an inch-ruler as a guide. “This is your twenty minute warning,” says Coach Flinstock from the front of the room. Everyone looks up from their tests with varying amounts of concern on their faces.

“Focus, focus, focus,” Stiles tells himself under his breath. He places the eraser side of the pencil to the test booklet and uses it to underline the words as he reads the questions. He skips three before finally just guessing C for the rest of the section. He places his pencil in the holder at the top of his desk and takes a deep breath. Day Three is complete.

Coach collects all the test booklets and releases them to lunch.

“That was brutal,” he tells Scott as they both leave the classroom, backpacks slung over their shoulders.

“Tell me about it,” Scott says, slapping his hand on his leg for punctuation and rolling his eyes.

Trying to lighten the mood, Stiles says, “Hey, let’s celebrate and go out to lunch or something.” It feels a little awkward rolling off his tongue, like there’s too much enthusiasm behind the request. He mentally berates himself for a few seconds before Scott’s reply distracts him.

“Celebrate what? If this were an actual graded test, you know we both would have failed.” It’s a good thing his tone indicates acceptance because his words certainly don’t.

“Hey, don’t include me in that statement,” Stiles smiles and the two change their path to the parking lot. “I would have done fine if it were graded. I would have studied if it made any impact on my life. I just… didn’t study.” They reach the Jeep and get in. Stiles pulls out of the lot and down the street.

“Still, tests are the worst,” Scott says, stating the obvious.

“I guessed for most of the questions at the end, which is a shame for the kids coming in after us.”

“Huh?”

“They do standardized tests to decide funding,” Stiles explains. “I think anyway. I guess that could be an urban legend, you know, like swamp monsters.” He pauses and side glances at Scott, “Swamp monsters aren’t real right?” Stiles can’t decide if he’s asking for the humor or asking for real.

“How should I know?” Scott asks, shrugging his shoulders.

“Did Derek say anything about them? Because I really don’t want to have to fight a swamp monster ever. The last things I want to find in places where the sun don’t shine are lily pads.” Definitely for real that time, no one likes to find lily pads in their ass crack.

Scott snorts but waves off the question. Normally Stiles would continue to pester for an answer, but they’ve now arrived and are parking at the 7-Eleven. Besides, Scott is half way out of the vehicle before Stiles thinks of a good follow up. The two raid the stocks for taquitos, Slurpees, and Beef Jerky. Scott’s tongue is blue before they even get back out of the store.

Upon return to the Jeep, Stiles and Scott slide their drinks into the cup holder, accidentally brushing hands. That’s when it occurs to him that the only thing separating this outing from a date is the lack of hand holding. And perhaps a bit of communication requesting that this be a date. Stiles considers what should all go into that bit of communication. Probably something along the lines of “You’re a cutie, let me touch your booty,” but that seems a bit forward, even though Scott’s been his best friend for years. But after a general bit of examination, that fact is exactly what makes actually asking so entirely impossible.

Stiles and Scott have been as close as brothers since Stiles brought over his toy light sabers and asked if Scott was free to play Jedi. Stiles isn’t afraid of coming out to Scott so much as he’s afraid to divulge his crush. He knows he’d still be friends with Scott even if Scott didn’t share said feelings, but rejection is hard nonetheless. So finding the right way to ask about booty touching is a delicate balance between the “I’m joking but not if you’re okay with it” and yet not coming off as a creep who would use such a line.

Stiles pulls back into the school parking lot just in time to hear the bell ring for class. Deciding to find the right moment (and the right words) later, he waves Scott goodbye at the door. Stiles runs off to his math class. He stops running when he gets to the door. He peaks through the window to see Mr. Atwood standing at the front of the room. His back is turned, writing out a problem on the chalk board. Stiles slowly turns the door knob in his hand and gently pushes the door open, attempting to sneak in unnoticed. It opens about a foot before it makes a long, horror movie-esque squeaking noise.

Mr. Atwood’s back stiffens but he doesn’t turn around. “Mr. Stilinski, if you would please just get inside and close the door now, I’ll pretend this little incident never happened.”

Stiles tries his best to look guilty before ambling inside and to his seat next to Lydia. She glares at him and shakes her head before engrossing herself back in the day’s problem. Stiles used to have the biggest crush on her, the kind of crush that led to frequent embarrassment. He even asked her out a few times, but wasn’t entirely surprised when the attempts were met with a variation of no. Or just silence. Silence was also a frequent answer. He’s never officially gotten over the crush. He still thinks she’s adorable and smart and anyone would be lucky to call her theirs, but he’s come to terms that he’s not that person. And besides, after Scott became Wolfy McWolfington … Well, let’s just say the new-found heroism is a big turn-on for Stiles.

Math class is mercifully quick and Mr. Atwood doesn’t even assign any homework per the math section of the standardized test having been this morning.

In English, he gets assigned the banned books project. The project involves picking a book from the approved list, which is hilarious in context, and doing an essay on it. The essay includes giving a synopsis of the book, the social context for why the book was banned, and whether the student agrees with the ban and why. On his route to the locker room, he runs into Danny. “You ever heard of the banned books project?” he asks.

“The banned book project is one of the best,” Danny says. “My older brother talked about it when he was in that class.”

“I didn’t know you had an older brother,” Stiles says. “Any tips on what book to choose?”

“No,” Danny replies as they turn down the next hallway closer to the locker room.

“Uh, okay.” Switching gears a little, he turns to Danny and asks, “Hey Danny, can I ask you a question?”

Danny rolls his eyes. “No,” he says, setting his backpack down on the bench between the rows of lockers in the locker room and starts undressing to change into his lacrosse gear.

The statement is unexpected, but doesn’t deter Stiles. “Well, I’m going to anyway. Am I attractive to gay guys?”

Danny just continues to change clothes into his jersey, completely ignoring the question at hand.

Stiles is about to ask again when Scott shows up. The two change into lacrosse gear before running out onto the field. Practice is hard and sweaty. Stiles would be thankful for the cool shower soothing his aching muscles, but he’s dually focused on not creeping on Scott which is unfortunately difficult as Scott’s shower is directly across from his and with a lack of curtains, he can see the whole package.

_Oh god, don’t think of packages. Don’t look at his butt. No booty checks. Don’t look at the butt. God but it’s so tight. Scott has a tight booty, totally smackable. Okay, one look won’t kill me. But that’s not okay, not okay, don’t look at the booty. Oh god! I looked. I totally peeked. On god it’s been longer than a peek. I can’t stop! I am looking at the most succulent booty. It would probably jiggle if smacked. And now that image won’t get out of my head. Oh god, don’t get a boner, don’t get a boner. Mantra time, don’t get a boner. Oh Jesus, gotta bail or everyone will see my boner._

Stiles escapes to the bathroom stall with a towel around his waist to hide his boner. He tries thinking of things to make the thing go away, but after a bit of mental war, he decides what’s the harm in just taking care of the problem?

He grips his dick and jerks it a few times, thinking of how Scott’s muscles rippled as he ran down the field and handled the ball today. It’s short and sweet and gets the job done in time for him to have limp dick before he’s gone long enough to be missed.

“You coming over tonight for some Halo?” Scott asks in greeting when Stiles returns to where their locker is.

“Nah, man, can’t. Gotta pick out a banned book tonight,” Stiles replies, gathering his clean clothes to get dressed.

“Cool, I can come with, then after we can play Halo,” Scott suggests.

Once Scott is dressed and backpacks are gathered, the two walk across the parking lot to the library. Stiles is again struck by how this could be a romantic walk if there was hand holding involved. They pick out a computer pod and Stiles pulls out the packet Mrs. Cobb gave for the project with the list of approved banned books he could pick from. He clicks on the library’s archive system, The Cat(alogue), to search the synopsis of all the books on the list.

“Scarlet Letter, banned for being pornographic and obscene,” he says quietly and taps the spot on the page with his finger. “Might be worth a shot.”

“Oh god, don’t do that to yourself,” Scott advises.

“What? Why not? Clearly someone is going to be full frontal in this or it wouldn’t be banned,” Stiles reasons.

“Yeah, full frontal for a puritan, which is maybe a wrist if she’s feeling extra frisky.”

“Point taken.”

After skimming the blurbs about the rest of the books, the only one that sticks out is The Outsiders (banned for portrayal of gang violence and drug and alcohol use). “What about this one?” Stiles asks, tapping on the page to indicate the book.

“Didn’t we read that in like fifth grade or something?” Scott asks.

“Did we?” Stiles asks, utterly confused. “I don’t remember it at all if we did,” he trails off. 

“Well maybe your class didn’t,” Scott says. “Yeah, I remember that being really good. Sad, but good.”

With book selected, he searches the Cat(alogue) to find the location before logging off the computer to find it.

“This is a good one,” the librarian comments when he brings the book to the checkout counter. Stiles shares a knowing grin with Scott.

“I hope so,” he says back to her, collecting his things and sticking them in his backpack.

Once at Scott’s house, they set up camp in the living room with the big screen TV. There’s lots of chips (in fact, jalapeno Cheetos and Tostitos with Melissa’s homemade salsa is considered their dinner). There’s a farting contest that needs to end in a truce for them to continue the party in the living room instead of retreating to Scott’s bedroom.

“Dude, I don’t want to spoil it for you, that’s no fun,” Scott complains when Stiles asks about The Outsiders.

“I don’t give a crap about spoilers,” Stiles says. “I knew Dumbledore died before I even started book six and it still didn’t ruin it for me. Come on, tell me everything.”

“I’m not telling you everything,” Scott says, but Stiles can tell he’s cracking a bit. “But the book starts out with a murder and the main character, Ponyboy –“

“I’m sorry, Ponyboy?” Stiles interrupts, laughing and then choking on a Cheeto. He has to cough harshly and Scott claps him on the back a few times to get under control. “What kind of a name is that?”

“That’s nothing,” Scott grins. “He’s got a brother named Sodapop.”

“Oh man, what even is this book?” Stiles laughs again, tears coming to his eyes.

“I know, right?” Scott waits for Stiles to calm down before moving on. “So Ponyboy and Johnny need to skip town. They hunker down in a church and read, oh man, I forget the book they read. But it makes Ponyboy realize they have to do the right thing and confess, right? So they go home again, where the gang of the murdered guy tries to get revenge.”

“Jesus,” Stiles breathes out. “I hope the author is more dramatic than you are. This just sounds like a soap opera,” Stiles complains.

“Oh shut up. I bet you anything this will be the saddest book you ever read.”

“Anything?” Stiles eggs.

“I’m not betting my authentic Luke Skywalker light saber, don’t even,” Scott says.

Stiles laughs anyway. “Damnit,” he curses through his giggles. “Almost had you there.”

Scott rolls his eyes and finishes his glass of Mountain Dew. “Want anything?” he offers, pausing the game and getting up to refill his glass.

“Nah,” Stiles says, but gets up to follow Scott into the kitchen anyway. “You know, I would totally do something like that for you,” Stiles admits. “Skip town, you know. If this werewolf thing goes downhill. Or you accidentally murder someone. You know, so long as the murder victim isn’t me.”

“You dick,” Scott laughs and flips Stiles the bird.

“Hey! I’m just saying, if you were found with blood on your claws and couldn’t explain it? We could use my Jeep and go to Bumfuck, Wisconsin. They’d never find us there.”

“Shut up, your dad is totally the sheriff, we’d have everyone tailing us. Our disappearance would make international news, knowing him,” Scott points out, getting the bottle out of the fridge.

“That’s why we’d get facial reconstructive surgery. They do that on the black market,” Stiles says.

“I don’t think that would work for me, being a werewolf and all,” Scott points out. “I’d heal before they even finish the first scalpel cut.” Scott pours the pop into his glass and recaps it.

“Okay. Fine. Then maybe you’ll just grow a beard and dye all your hair red. That would throw people off, you have to admit,” Stiles says.

“Red?” Scott asks indignantly, returning the Dew to the fridge. “I’m pretty sure it would look so unnatural it’ll be like I have a sign saying ‘I’m Guilty Of Something, Please Arrest Me’ tattooed on my forehead.”

“Yeah if it were fire engine red. But what about a pretty auburn,” Stiles compromises, but can’t get it out with a straight face. He follows Scott back out to the living room and takes his seat on the couch next to him.

“Not happening, I think we’d just have to go into hiding for the rest of our lives,” Scott says.

“Well that’s no fun,” Stiles complains.

“How about then I just won’t kill anyone,” Scott promises, looking over at Stiles sitting next to him. “But it’s always good to know that I have a friend who would do that for me.” As he’s talking, he seems to be leaning closer and closer. Stiles isn’t quite sure if he’s imagining the gradual changes in proximity but suddenly they’re very close and Scott appears to be closing his eyes and licking his lips and Stiles just can’t be imagining this and he’s about to do the same when suddenly, “Stiles, how many times do I have to ask you not to park in the driveway?”

The two separate like they just got shocked with a cattle prod. Melissa is standing in the archway glaring at him. “Well?” she asks, and she couldn’t look any more mom-like unless she was tapping her foot and had her hand resting on her hip.

“Sorry, Mrs. McCall,” he says, getting up off the couch. “Oh man, I didn’t realize how late it is. Scott, I’ll catch you at school tomorrow,” he beats a hasty retreat.

“Goodnight,” he hears Scott call after him.

When he gets home, he goes to his bedroom and flops on his bed. He replays what just happened in his head, trying to analyze that yes, Scott was actually going in for a kiss. He had to be. There could not possibly be any other interpretation for it. Maybe finding the right words won’t be so hard after all. 

The next thing he knows, Stiles’s alarm blares, jerking him awake. Drool is smeared all over his cheek and pillow. He rubs his face and walks zombie-like to the bathroom for a shower. He dresses and grabs his book bag before heading out the door for school. They are feeding all the students breakfast for testing week. 

Coach Flinstock is at his desk, pile of test booklets in front of him.

Stiles eats his bagel, waiting for Scott to arrive. Just as the bell rings, he slides into the room, towing someone behind him. “Sorry we’re late, coach. Principal Thomas asked me to show Allison where her class is since she’s new and we’re in the same one.”

“You picked the worst time to be a new student,” Coach observes. “Go on, take your seat. Everyone, this is Allison.”

Allison, of course, takes the free seat behind Scott. Stiles looks on as she gets situated and Coach describes the next section of the test. At the reminder for needing a number two pencil, Allison searches her bag, but comes up empty handed. She taps Scott on the shoulder, asking for a pencil. He grins and gives her one of his, and Stiles tries very, very hard not to feel a twinge of possessiveness and jealousy. An involuntary _he’s mine_ thought enters his head. 

Coach does a wonderful job of creating a distraction from the feeling by slamming Stiles’ test booklet on his desk and saying something about keeping them turned upside down until the time begins. Once all the test booklets are passed out and Coach gives the “you have X minutes, I’ll give you Y warnings” spiel, the room quiets and Stiles makes a valiant attempt at focusing. 

Stiles opens his packet and races through the questions. He’s reasonably good at science and doesn’t hit a stumper until about a half hour in. He sighs and starts tapping his leg. He uses his eraser to follow the test question three times before comprehending. He narrows it down to either A or B, and weighs his options for a few seconds before just picking B after a quick eni meni mini mo.

The next question kicks his ass, too. He sighs and stretches his legs out, sitting up straight. His eyes dart about the room, trying to glean something useful off of the billboards and maps tacked up on the walls. Unfortunately, the capital of Peru wasn’t going to give him the answer to what will _best_ describe the maximum antibody level of a person’s body after flu vaccination.

He finally settles into staring off into space at the tree just outside the window. “Ow!” he hisses. His eyes whip to Jackson, who’d just kicked him in the shins.

“Knock off the eraser tapping, or I swear to God I’ll have your head on a stick, Stilinski,” whispers Jackson.

“Sorry,” Stiles murmurs, reaching his hand down to massage his leg. Stiles tries again to pay attention to the test, but his focus keeps getting sidetracked, remembering the look on Scott’s face when Allison asked for the pencil. He doesn’t want to be jealous of the new girl. Other than a bit of smiling and being friendly, Scott hasn’t even shown her interest. He’s just being nice. People should be nice to the new person. Stiles just wishes that maybe he’d made more effort to find the right words to talk to Scott about that whole booty touching thing before Allison became a student at Beacon Hills High.

Stiles barely finishes the test before Coach Flinstock stands to announce, “Time is up; if you would all close your books and leave them on the corner of your desk to be collected. You’re all free to go.” Everyone stands and quickly makes towards the door.

“Scott!” Stiles calls, trying to catch up through the mob of mass exodus. Scott turns around and smiles.

“Stilinski!” calls Coach. “Hold up a minute, I need to talk to you.” Stiles face falls and looks to the coach. When he looks back at the door, Scott is waving and mouthing “Catch you later” before disappearing with Allison in tow.

Stiles sighs and turns towards Flinstock. “What’s up, Coach?”

The coach looks up from collecting the test booklets. “I just wanted to talk to you about the tests.”

Stiles shrugs, “What about them?”

“There are options, you know. If you’re having trouble,” he gestures with his hands, as if he’s uncomfortable continuing, “paying attention, I mean.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. He has been approached by so many well-meaning teachers about this exact thing so many times it’s hard not to feel singled out. Yes, he has ADHD. Yes, he’s got some issues paying attention to things that don’t meet his interests. Hell, sometimes the things that do meet his interests are difficult to pay attention to for long periods of time. The medication helps, but there’s only so much meds can do when there are several hours of repetitive, uninteresting, and non-meaningful testing a day.

“I’m doing fine. I don’t need some special ED teacher reading to me.” The coach opens his mouth, but Stiles cuts him off. “The principal already talked to me and I turned it down. I am capable of taking a few tests,” Stiles affirms. 

Coach contorts his face in the _suit yourself_ expression and turns back to collecting tests. Stiles moves to the door, and runs down the hall to catch up to Scott. He finally finds him in the cafeteria hallway, holding his lunchbox. “Scott!” he calls, getting the other boys attention.

“Hey,” Scott smiles and waves. “What’s up?”

Before he can say anything, Allison appears with a hot lunch tray and asks, “Ready to go?”

Scott spares her a glance and a smile before turning to Stiles, “We were going to eat on the lawn. Did you want to come?”

“Oh, uhm. No, no, I’m good,” Stiles says, feeling that ping of jealousy return. He tries to quell it. Scott’s a good guy, he’s trying to help the new girl. He’s allowed to have other friends. Stiles doesn’t want to get in the way of that. But the way Scott is smiling at Allison as they walk away to the courtyard, it’s hard not to feel like maybe he waited too long to find the right words.

He sees Scott with Allison randomly through the rest of the day. He sees Scott walking Allison to class, even though Scott doesn’t have Chemistry next, he has English. He sees Scott introducing Allison to Lydia, even though Scott and Lydia aren’t even friends. What’s up with that? He sees Scott giving Allison a tour of the school, which is at least legitimately useful. But when he sees Scott walk her to lacrosse practice so she can watch from the bleachers, he feels this little “tour” has gone too far. What is Allison even going to do up there? Granted, Lydia is sitting next to her so at least she has someone to talk to, but how boring and ego-centric of Scott to expect this girl he just met to watch him play a sport. The more he sees Scott with Allison, the harder it is to ignore the jealousy. He doesn’t dislike Allison, he doesn’t know her well enough for that, but he feels snubbed and ignored and _replaced_ and it isn’t fun.

It isn’t even jealousy anymore. It’s genuine hurt feelings for being pushed aside for this new person. It hurts. But he doesn’t want to make a big deal about it to Scott. Stiles has no right to be Scott’s only anything. But after an entire day of being deliberately cast aside, Stiles is a little angry. Indignantly, he ignores Scott’s attempts at small talk in the locker room and the resulting kicked puppy look. He doesn’t say a word when Scott tails him to his Jeep. He just unlocks his own door and gets in, driving away alone.

When he gets home, he storms upstairs to his room and turns on his computer to get a head start on the Banned Books project essay section, as well as the chapter on covalent bonds and associated questions.

His father comes up to inform him that dinner is ready. Usually dinner is a time that Stiles uses to ask his father about work. Stiles likes to know the intricacies about his dad’s work because when he hears more stories about doling out traffic tickets than standoffs, it makes it easier to sleep at night when his dad is working third shift. Plus, even the boring stuff is interesting. His dad is a fucking cop, what isn’t cool about that?

Well, except maybe that the entire force knows his vehicle and license plate number. That isn’t so fun. But seriously, it’s pretty cool that his dad has the power to arrest people. That kind of takes clout over never being able to speed.

However, tonight, the two eat in relative silence. Stiles is far too wrapped up in his own drama to even consider asking about his dad’s.

Stiles clears the table when the two are done. “You okay, kiddo?” his dad finally asks as they put away supper, like he’d been working up to actually coming out with the question.

Stiles takes a deep breath, chest puffing up and exhaling. He can feel some of the anger ebb out of him. “Yeah,” he says, feeling like an asshole for not paying more attention to his dad during dinner. “Just mad at myself is all.”

“Anything you want to talk about?” John offers.

Stiles appreciates the offer. He is very grateful that his dad is a decent dad. Lord knows Scott wasn’t quite so lucky. However, he’s just not ready to talk about this. He knows his dad well enough that his bisexuality is hardly a blip on the radar of unusual things his dad has had to come to terms with. It’s just, he’s not entirely sure admitting he’s got the hots for his best friend will be his most shining moment given the potential consequence of an open door policy and no more sleepovers.

“No,” Stiles says. “I’ll figure it out.”

“Sure. Just, let me know if you ever want to talk,” John says. 

After doing the dishes, Stiles makes his way back upstairs. He slogs his way through the rest of the chemistry questions and starts chapter one of The Outsiders. He’s half way through the book before he realizes any time has passed. He wants to keep going and it takes everything in him to put the book down. It’s just after midnight when he turns his light off and goes to sleep. 

He arrives at school and sees Scott, Allison, and Lydia all hanging around the front door of the school. Stiles steers clear and walks in a side door. He enters the testing classroom and grabs the bagel and single serving packet of cream cheese before heading to his desk.

Scott and Allison file into the room a minute or so before the bell. “Glad to see you both on time today,” Coach congratulates mockingly. “Please continue making a habit of it.”

Both of them take their seats and the bell rings, signaling Coach to stand up and give the standard speech about how they would be given an hour and twenty minutes for section one followed by snack time and an hour and ten minutes for section two. He passes out the booklets, writes the time on the board, and says, “I will warn you all when there is twenty minutes left, good luck,” before taking his seat again.

The only redeeming thing about this round of testing is that it is the last round. The collective whooping once the last test packet is collected feels so freeing. It even puts Stiles in a mildly more forgiving mood so he joins Scott and Allison for lunch in the cafeteria. Shortly after taking a seat at one of the tables, Lydia sits down next to them, which is completely unexpected given Lydia’s history of ignoring them. However, the way she immediately gravitates her attention to Allison it becomes apparent why the seating arrangement occurred.

“So you’re coming to my party tonight, right?” Lydia asks Allison.

Allison stalls a bit surprised around the drink of water she was swallowing. “Oh, um. I guess?” she offers.

“Of course you are,” Lydia demands, then turns her attention to Scott, “And you too,” she presumes.

Scott grins a bit and nods, sharing a look with Allison. “Okay,” he offers.

Stiles rolls his eyes. His resentment towards Allison doesn’t even register. Instead, he feels resignation. Of course Lydia would be playing matchmaker. The stars have aligned against him; he’s lost his chance forever. Life just isn’t fair, he determines.

The rest of school is completed in a haze of fuck today and the couch it rode in on. Stiles goes home and distracts himself from thinking about what Scott and Allison will be doing at Lydia’s party. Her parties are notorious for their lack of parental supervision and all that entails.

He’s so deep into his own personal pity party that the doorbell ringing catches him off guard.

Upon answering it, he sees Scott waiting on his stoop. “Ready to go?” he asks, using his thumb to point over his shoulder to his mom’s car in the driveway.

“Go where?” Stiles asks looking between Scott and the car, very confused. “Aren’t you going to be late to the party?”

“I’m picking you up for the party,” Scott says, tone indicating that he’s fairly certain Stiles’ light bulb might have lost its status as the brightest in the closet.

“In case you forgot, I wasn’t invited,” Stiles reminds.

“Sure you were,” Scott pressures mildly. “Come on, get dressed and let’s go. It’ll be fun.”

It takes quite a bit more pressure and promises of a Star Wars marathon before Stiles finally agrees to go. He quickly changes into something acceptable to wear at a party before joining Scott in his mother’s car. At first the invitation feels like Scott is doing it out of pity for Stiles’ lack of social circle. But the more Scott insists, the more Stiles feels like maybe Scott really does want him there.

Lydia’s house is loud and full of people by the time they arrive. They don’t even bother ringing the doorbell. However, as soon as they open the door, Lydia is there greeting them. She barely spares Stiles a glance before whisking Scott away, and leaving Stiles behind at the coat rack. After hanging his jacket, Stiles takes a minute to search the house for his partner in crime. Without any success, he decides he’ll meet up with Scott again soon and goes to take a seat in one of Lydia’s living spaces. He waves at Greenburg as he enters the room. Her parent’s house is incredibly large and astonishingly fancy. All of the couches are leather, all of the floors are hardwood, all of the rooms have swanky porcelain pottery. Stiles wonders how often Lydia has to blame her dog, Prada, for knocking them over due to party goers’ clumsiness.

He considers picking one of the vases up for closer inspection, but decides after his previous thought regarding other peoples’ aptitude towards grace, he shouldn’t try his own luck. When he turns from the vase in question, he spots Allison and Scott standing near the sliding back door that leads to the pool.

Allison is leaning her back on the doors while Scott is standing next to her, body language more intimate than just showing the new girl the ropes. And that is the moment when Stiles mild irritation at being left to his lonesome turns into general inadequacy. Thinking back to how Scott had begged, quite literally, for Stiles to join on this party and yet he’s left so alone while Scott is over flirting with the new girl.

He’s spent too long feeling jealous about Scott’s interactions with her to feel like this is Scott liking her over him. At this point, he’s just not what Scott wants. He must accept this.

And that’s when it occurs to him that all the waiting to find the right words in the world wouldn’t make a difference because it doesn’t even take a confession to be rejected.

He eventually finds himself sitting on one of Lydia’s couches, watching the other teenagers drinking and conversing around him. He takes out his cell phone, contemplating who to call to get a ride back home. 

Before he makes a decision, Scott pops up next to him, holding two glasses of red juice. He offers one to Stiles. “Here,” he says and takes a seat on the arm of the couch.

“Shouldn’t you be getting Allison a drink?” Stiles asks, dejectedly. 

“What? Why would I get Allison a drink?” Scott asks, genuinely confused.

“I just thought her being your new _girl_ friend and all that you’d be off paying attention to her,” Stiles says, unable to hold back the self pity in his tone.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Scott says defensively.

“Sure seems like it,” Stiles mumbles, his hurt feelings finally hitting a boiling point.

“I’m just trying to be friendly, that’s all. I don’t like her like that,” Scott says. “Look,” he continues. “I’m sorry if you got the wrong impression, but I don’t like her that way.”

“You were awfully close for someone who wasn’t interested,” Stiles comments, trying for nonchalance but all it sounds is resentful.

“Because it’s loud in here,” Scott says, and now that he points it out, they have been talking louder than usual to be heard over the music. “Dude, I swear to you I’m not into her. And I’ll prove it to you, look,” he demands, twisting to glance over his shoulder. When Stiles looks too, he’s mildly shocked to see Lydia and Allison standing even closer than Scott and Allison were several minutes before. Lydia has her hands touching Allison’s arms, and the grin on her face is infectious. Suddenly Allison is throwing her head back in a laugh and Lydia looks pleased with herself. When Allison recovers from said laugh into mild giggles, Lydia leans forward and places a kiss on Allison’s cheek.

“Oh,” Stiles croaks.

“Yeah, ‘oh’,” Scott teases, now fixing Stiles with a weak glare. “Lydia asked me to put in a good word,” he explains.

Stiles feels utterly embarrassed. But honestly, now that he knows all the facts, a lot of things make sense now. If Lydia was a lesbian, it made sense that she didn’t appreciate his attempts to go out with her. Or she just didn’t like him, which could just as easily be the culprit even if it didn’t boost his self confidence. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Stiles says. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“There was nothing to tell,” Scott says.

“Sure there was! I’m your best friend, you tell me about your stinky farts and you didn’t tell me my previous crush was digging the new girl?” Stiles babbles in a rush.

“Well, to be fair, it’s not like you asked,” Scott shrugs in defense.

“I didn’t ask about your farts either, and guilty by omission is still guilty,” Stiles laughs, glad the mood has lightened considerably. It feels like this whole misunderstanding could have been avoided with proper communication, especially in regards to who has what crush. It actually is mildly inspirational, now that he’s thinking about it. “So,” he starts awkwardly. “I guess considering recent events, I think I might have a confession,” he says. The knot in his belly swells now that the moment is upon him but he will get this out, perfect words be damned. “I’m bi.”

“Oh,” Scott says, very anticlimactic.

“Oh? That’s all you’ve got for me?” he gawps, moderately offended.

“Well, it’s not exactly a surprise,” Scott defends. But before Stiles can say words to how that is offensive, too, Scott continues with, “I mean, I overheard in the locker room how you asked Danny if you were attractive to gay guys.”

“Danny says you have a big mouth, no homo,” Stiles says.

“I’m totally being serious,” Scott says, bumping his elbow into Stiles shoulder. “And, if it’s any consolation, I think you’re attractive to gay guys.”

“Yeah? What makes you say that?”

“Well, I’m gay, and I find you attractive,” Scott admits.

“Come on, man, don’t mess with me. I’m emotionally vulnerable,” Stiles teases, and suddenly this feels like the “joking but not if you’re okay with it” thing he was trying his best to avoid.

“No, I’m totally for real on this,” Scott says, looking Stiles square in the eyes and, at the very least, Stiles feels less creepy using the tactic because it worked out in his favor. Scott sets his glass on the coffee table and grips Stiles’ hand, tugging it behind him as they walk down the hall.

“Where are we going?” Stiles asks, setting his drink down on one of the many hall tables as he scrambles to meet Scott’s pace.

“You’ll see,” Scott says as he stops in front of a door and twists the handle. When the door opens, it reveals a closet. Scott’s face falls, “I totally expected this to be a bedroom.”

“Why would we need a bedroom?” Stiles asks.

Scott smiles and winks and tugs on Stiles hand so they both end up in the closet with the door shut behind them. “So I can do this,” he says, and leans in to place a tender kiss on Stiles’ lips.

The kiss is soft but awkward, the darkness not in Stiles favor with his human senses. But he enthusiastically responds to how Scott’s mouth is placed on his own, and opens his mouth to accept Scott’s tongue when it starts prodding at his lips. It’s weird, like he waited for this exact scenario for so long and yet now that it’s here, it’s totally different than expected. The closet is new, that wasn’t part of the fantasy.

Stiles pulls back for air and tries to make Scott’s face out in the darkness. He hopes he’s looking at Scott’s eyes, but really if he’s facing that general direction, he’ll consider it a win. “Dude, as much as I would love to play seven minutes in heaven, people are totally going to notice,” he whispers, for sure now that he’s probably focusing on Scott’s nose.

“Oh, right,” Scott says, sounding at least partially embarrassed.

“Come on, we can take it back to my place,” Stiles says, hand trying to find the doorknob. “Let’s make our goodbyes.”

Their exit from the closet is far from polished. Stiles is tangled in a scarf that quite clearly doesn’t go with his outfit, and Scott trips over a pair of rain boots. Once they’re both righted, Stiles tugs Scott’s hand down the hall they just came from to find their gracious host.

“Hey Lydia,” Scott says when they stop in front of her. Allison is gripping onto her hand in much the same way that Stiles is gripping on to Scott’s. “Great party and everything, but we, uh, have to go,” Scott says in a rush.

“Yeah, school project,” Stiles adds on, trying to be helpful, but now it just sounds like the lie it obviously is.

Lydia looks unimpressed, but smug as she assesses the two boys in front of her, eyes lingering on their hands clasped together. She then glances at Allison and her hands as they’re held in a similar fashion. “Of course,” she says, still looking at Allison. “You two have fun,” she says, her voice sensual and the way her gaze is still on Allison, Stiles isn’t sure Lydia is even talking to Scott and him anymore.

But the two take the goodbye regardless and head for the door to Scott’s mother’s car, still holding hands the whole way out.

And it’s true what they say. Everything is at least twenty percent more romantic with hand holding.

 ** _Fin_**.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Remember to check out the [art](http://inflomora-art.tumblr.com/post/93179045292/bi-stiles-for-the-sciles-reversebang-author) and the [artist](http://inflomora-art.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> Check out [scilesreversebang](http://scilesreversebang.tumblr.com/) for the other entries in the challenge!
> 
> Come say hi to me on [tumblr](http://pornographicrainbowlegs.tumblr.com/)!


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